


Mortal

by quirklessloser



Category: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac
Genre: Choking, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 04:39:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8735248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quirklessloser/pseuds/quirklessloser
Summary: Johnny attempts to persuade Edgar into taking his life. It's such a perfect night for a murder.





	

**Author's Note:**

> haha have you ever heard of self-indulgence because that's all this is.

Johnny had a penchant for theatrics, something that Edgar couldn’t help but notice in practically everything he did. It was all exaggerated, loud voice and wide movements to take up as much space as they could. Perhaps it was an act of defense, occupying as much of the room as he could at once to ensure he was always bigger, never looked down upon. It was quite sad, really, because he had to know in some capacity that all anyone ever did was look down upon him. Unless they were pleading for their lives, when all power was placed woefully into his hands. Then again, Edgar himself had done quite an excellent job of looking down on him in the same position. 

Johnny made it very easy to do, being the pathetic kind of person that he was.

How cruel to think of a lover in such a fashion, though it was hard to call him a thing like that. Lovers tended to crave closeness and profess their love and give gifts of flowers but Johnny did none of those things. He climbed in windows late at night, complaining of picking latches, and sat on the edge of his bed for hours until dawn. Sometimes he would speak of the universe as if he had seen the entirety of its expanse, murmuring spiels of the stars and questioning life itself, but not once had he ever told Edgar he loved him, or even liked him. If he wanted to believe that was the case, then it simply had to be assumed.

Johnny said he reminded him of Orion, with an uncharacteristic look of softness on his face. That meant the same thing as a whispered ‘I love you’, when the circumstances were dire enough.

Simply put, Johnny said a lot of things, often without a clear meaning or reason. Though at times, he was perhaps more blunt than he should be, to the point that it was disconcerting beyond measure.

“It would be so romantic…” Johnny said, leaning back on his hands and digging his nails into the soft dirt beneath. “It would be the most romantic thing if you killed me right now. Can you imagine it?”

Edgar coughed, pointedly looking away from him. He wasn’t going to respond to that. How would one respond to the notion of romantic, tender murder? With discomfort, he hoped.

“Are you listening?”

“Oh, I’m listening.”

“Okay.” Johnny seemed a bit hurt, like he was expecting Edgar to jump at the chance to drive a knife into his heart as a conclusion to their impromptu date. Perhaps his idea of romance was much different than his own. He sighed, drawing his knees up to a chest. Even in the halflight, Edgar could see the dirt under his nails. He liked to hope that it was just dirt and not blood, anyway, but that was probably wishful thinking. “Edgar?”

“What?”

“You don’t seem very receptive to the idea I gave you.”

“I don’t want to kill you. That’s why I’m not particularly interested in doing it. I thought that would be pretty obvious, since it isn’t common practice to kill people you like. I’m quite sorry that it wasn’t.” Perhaps it would soften the blow to remind him that he did like him. He thought so, at least.

Johnny sighed, looking away and setting his chin on his knees. He was the only person Edgar could ever imagine having the audacity to pout over someone not wanting to kill him. He was hard to make sense of, that was a constant, but this might be enough to take the cake.

“Are you upset with me?”

“No,” Johnny replied. He clearly was upset, no matter what he said.

He was hard to negotiate with, though this wasn’t exactly a matter of much negotiation. Murder was not something Edgar was going to commit, and he especially wasn’t going to kill Johnny. The world might thank him for it, but that meant nothing when it came down to it. He abruptly shifted closer, until their shoulders touched. The whole thing made Edgar tense. Johnny wasn’t one for touching in any capacity, let alone casually and without purpose. He rested his head on Edgar’s shoulder, heaving the most noisy and dramatic sigh.

“You seem troubled.”

“I am,” Johnny replied. He felt around on the ground, until he had Edgar’s hand in his own. “I don’t think that we share the same vision.”

“We don’t?”

“No, we don’t.” He seemed frustrated, which was understandable, if not for what he seemed to be trying to achieve. “But I wish we did. It’s such a lovely night. I wish I were dead.” The sentences flowed into each other seamlessly, as if they weren’t entirely separate statements. They weren’t, Edgar remembered. To Johnny, they were very much connected.

Edgar tried to move away from him, but Johnny didn’t seem to notice that was his goal. He simply moved with him. He never did make anything easy. 

“Won’t you just try?”

“Try what?”

“Killing me.”

“That doesn’t seem like something I can just ‘try’. Isn’t it something that’s ‘done’, not ‘tried’? I don’t think you can change your mind halfway through murder.” Edgar couldn’t imagine that Johnny really was thinking this through. Just because he could get away with killings beyond count didn’t mean that he would share the same luck with a single one.

And he didn’t want to kill him, that was still important.

“Not necessarily.” Johnny seemed hopeful, but for all the wrong reasons. “You could strangle me. That’s easy to turn back from, I think.”

“Have you done it?” That seemed too close and personal for Johnny to have done, when he preferred machines of torture and knives and anything that kept him from having to touch.

“No, but it makes sense, doesn’t it?” He gripped Edgar’s hand tightly, trying so hard to convince him into something much more morbid than he seemed to realize. “Just try.”

“I don’t think I want to do that,” Edgar replied, but his resistance was already being worn down by his insistence. Surely he wouldn’t actually kill him, at least not on purpose. The fact that he could be in a situation of accidental murder was horrific, and he had a life he intended to live outside of prison bars.

“Please.” Johnny was going to devolve into begging or something equally as shameful sooner or later, because he was above things only when it was convenient to be. “Please. I want you to do it. It would be so nice…”

“What would? What are you talking about?”

“If you choked me to death under such a pretty cast of moonlight.”

“Right.” Edgar hated to be talked into anything, and Johnny wasn’t particularly that convincing to start with. That would leave him with the option of doing it, or thinking a bit too hard about why it was almost tempting. More than tempting, really, but he didn’t like to think of himself as someone who would want to choke the life out of anyone, let alone Johnny, whatever he was to him. “I really should get going. Before this gets any worse, I mean. I wouldn’t want to leave you with the impression that I just had other things I needed to do.”

The second that he moved, Johnny was quick to make sure he stayed right where he was. He climbed into his lap, looking him straight in the eye with clear purpose. Edgar thought it strange that he was driven by want to this degree, and he wondered if Johnny knew that he was no better than anyone else with their own deep motivations in that moment. He was so quick to condemn others for the very things he did, but that was a matter to be considered another time. 

“Edgar,” Johnny whispered, pressing their chests together and leaving no room to breathe between them. That was exactly what he wanted, presumably. “Won’t you do this for me? You care about me, don’t you?”

“I do, that’s why I don’t want to do it.” Edgar could feel his heart race, and he hoped that Johnny couldn’t feel it too. He didn’t need him being aware that anything he did affected him, especially not now.

“You don’t understand.” He rested his forehead against Edgar’s, their lips a fraction of an inch apart. Did Johnny know that Edgar wanted to kiss him? He must, he had to have figured it out by now. “It’s very important. I wouldn’t want to waste such an opportunity, or spend it with someone else.”

Edgar exhaled slowly, trying to gather all of his stray thoughts into one place. As soon as he did, Johnny kissed him, and they scattered again. 

The idea that Johnny was using him had never seemed quite so close by. Even with that notion hanging close by, it was hard to focus on anything more than what was happening in the moment. 

“Kill me” Johnny breathed, pulling away just enough to speak, “I need you to try.”

The desperation with which he spoke made Edgar think that he was not lying, but that didn’t mean he knew the seriousness of what he was asking for. “I-”

Johnny took both of Edgar’s wrists in his own, and slowly guided his hands to his neck. “Just once.”

One time couldn’t be that bad, could it? He would show Johnny this wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, then he would never have to worry about such an odd request again. Wordlessly, silently, he wrapped his hands around Johnny’s neck. He could feel and hear his shuddering breath of excitement. If nothing else, he had not been lying about wanting this. He didn’t know what he was doing, or why he had ever let himself think this was a good idea at all. It wasn’t, and it wasn’t too late to turn back, but he didn’t.

He just let his lax grip grow tighter, instead.

Johnny leaned back, forcing Edgar to move with him. He lay with his back on the dirt, looking up at him with unmasked adoration. The whole thing was sick, but perhaps that was the worst of it all. This was meant to be the farthest thing from an act of malice. It was meant to be something done out of love, and Johnny expected him to understand how and why that was without explaining it. 

Edgar knew he would never be able to kill him, not on purpose. He didn’t want to dwell on why he was doing it at all.

There was, if he were to be honest, something about it that satisfied a need residing within him. It was not a need for this, specifically, but it was a need to control something so out of control as Johnny. He was a wildfire being, the eye of the hurricane, centre of turbulence and destruction. And Edgar had his life in his hands, because Johnny wanted him to have it and to take it.

Perhaps Johnny knew what he was talking about when he mused about the romance of the circumstance, in a bizarre sense.

Johnny seemed calm for someone in his position. His long fingers were still around Edgar’s wrists, though he made no motion to pull his hands away. He was content, accept the lack of oxygen as a hard-earned right and not struggling against the pull into the unknown. There was a burning in his chest, something agonizing and desperate. He knew his body wanted to survive, but that was the same human neediness that he despised manifest yet again. Nothing could make him give up now, not even as his nails dug into Edgar’s wrists and he resisted every urge to make him let go.

It hurt, terribly so, and he had underestimated how awful it would be. He couldn’t see a thing, not even the glittering stars above. That was unfortunate; he had wanted to see them once more before it all ended. All he could see were faint spots in technicolor red. As soon as it began to border on unbearable, the pressure disappeared. Without a second’s hesitation, he breathed in the crisp night air. It burned, nearly worse than the lack of it had, and every part of his body felt weak. But this was wrong; Edgar wasn’t supposed to let go. He blinked, trying to dispel the spots, and looked up at him.

“What are you doing?” he rasped.

“I told you, I couldn’t kill youm” Edgar replied.

“No, no, you have to try againm” Johnny insisted. It hadn’t taken very long; he hadn’t been counting, but he knew that it could have ended easily if Edgar had not decided enough was enough. “Please keep going.” He tried to press Edgar’s hands down against his neck, coming across as nothing short of desperate.

“I don’t want you to die.”

“Do it anyway. I liked it.” Johnny was still breathing heavily, making up for lost time; time that he intended to lose all over again if he could get Edgar to comply.

“A-alright.” Edgar wasn’t sure what else to say, when ‘no’ simply wouldn’t come. He kissed him again, just as he gripped his throat, and Johnny wanted nothing more than for that moment alone to last on into eternity. It was perfect, everything was perfect the way he wanted, if he could only reach the end.

Edgar adjusted his hands, feeling Johnny swallow against the tightness of his grip. That had to mean he wasn’t holding tightly enough, but that was fine, it was better if he didn’t let Johnny think his intent was to do away with him again.

It wasn’t, it really wasn’t, and the only reason he kept going was because Johnny looked so nice at his mercy. He hated to think that, because that was the sort of thought that led to awful things, but there was no way of getting around it. Controlling the fate of his very existence was a rush, one that left tingling in the tips of his fingers where they met with Johnny’s skin.

Johnny had tears forming in the corners of his eyes, and an attempt at blinking them away only made them slip down his temples. This was harder than the first time, he realized, because it hurt so much worse. Johnny could feel his body pleading with him to breathe, and he had all the will in the world to keep him from complying. Everything was burning hot, from where Edgar’s hands circled around his neck and moving outwards from there. He made the softest sound, air leaking from his lungs when Edgar’s hold changed.

It was through the haze that he noticed something was wrong. Johnny was obsessed with his idea of perfection, morbid and tasteless as it was, and he loathed the idea that a single thing could interfere with it. But it could, he had to see that now, because the fluttery heat settled between his legs and that was all wrong. 

Sick, that’s what it was. This was death, a slow descent into nothingness through suffocation. Johnny could not place himself under any category but that of those he condemned so readily, without second thought. They were mere freaks of nature, aroused by twisted things, yet here he was. He whined, impulses he reserve for virulent descriptions of animalistic beings winning out against everything he wanted to see himself standing proudly for. As much as he didn’t want Edgar to know, there was a large part of him that wanted to ensure that he did, to satisfy the craving for touch that settled in his aching chest. Johnny crossed his legs, doing anything in his power to get a hint of friction. That kind of movement could never go unnoticed, though, at least not for very long.

“What are you doing?” Edgar asked, not letting go of him. He couldn’t answer with no breath to speak, he had to be aware of that already. What was it, then? An attempt to mock him, perhaps? Johnny thought that might be fair of him to do. “You really weren’t- you weren’t kidding, about liking this.”

Shameful, downright vile. Johnny wanted to go back to the way things were, when there was only a pull at his consciousness and not a single reason to keep it from slipping into blackness. 

“That’s pretty fucked up.” Edgar cracked a smile, something horribly unsuited to the position he was in. This was no time for mocking grins, this was a time to finish a job badly done and call it a night. He shifted, edging his knee between Johnny’s legs. Johnny would have hyperventilated if he could. There was nothing left now, though, not enough space to breathe or the willpower to keep himself from _feeling_. He couldn’t focus on anything, not in any sense of the word. His mind was racing with thoughts, and his vision spotted with red dots. Nothing would stick, not for long enough to be made sense of. He pushed back against Edgar’s knee, head tipped back with the faintest noise trapped behind his hold.

Edgar had not planned on any of this happening, and it wasn’t as if he was simply blind to where everything had gone wrong. It was so easy to get caught up in the moment, an excuse he could use now, if only he would let go and back away. He didn’t though, and that meant the time for justification had slipped by. His hands itched to _touch_ , to bring him more than only harm. “Can I touch you?” he asked, the words tumbling out before he had the time to consider them.

Johnny heard him, though it was through the wave-crash roaring in his ears, and nodded. He could think about this later. This had long since stopped being about considering implications and fixing the long-running problem of mortal existence. This was about what he wanted, and how desperately it was that he wanted it. Air, icy and burning is returned to his body. Each breath stung, but that was sensation pushed to the side for something far better.

Edgar unbuttoned Johnny’s pants, thinking over and over that this would not be happening if Johnny was at all in his right mind. He slid his hand beneath the open zipper, watching him for any sign that he had already had enough. There was none; Johnny’s chest was heaving and his body shook but he had done nothing to indicate with was anything but what he wanted. It would be quite nice if Edgar could believe that in fullness. Johnny made a weak sound when Edgar stroked him, his heels dragging on the ground as he moved to keep control of himself. It didn’t work; it had been so long, so remarkably long since he had felt anything like this, that even the slightest touch was enough to make him feel like he was on cloud nine.

“Yesss-” he rasped, his hands feeling around until he found Edgar’s free one. Johnny laced their fingers together, craving more than what just carnal impulses drove him to. “Fuck, Edgar, please-!”

Edgar thought the whole thing was a disaster, not in the best kind of way or in a good way at all, simply a disaster. It was so easy to forget that, though, when he was moaning his name and he could have Johnny thinking only of him. That was what he wanted, after all. It was a selfish desire to want to be the only thing that mattered to someone, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a real one.

“Please?”

“ _Please keep going,_ ” Johnny spoke on a gasp. The hand not interlocked with Edgar’s grabbed his shirt, pulling him down. His arm looped around his neck, holding him close. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he said, over and over, unknowingly making up for every time Edgar had wished that was what he would say.

“I love you toom” Edgar replied, wondering to himself if he really did. If this was what love had been, after all of these years spent in solitude, then what did any storybook fairytale know?

Johnny sniffled, and Edgar realized that he was crying again. Whether it be because of emotion or something else, he didn’t know. He buried his face in Edgar’s shoulder, warm, wet tears soaking through his shirt. He shook all over, maybe even worse than when he had been choked. 

“Stay with me. Never leave mem” Johnny whispered, his voice breaking on a moan. “Please don’t go.”

“I won’t,” Edgar said.

Johnny came abruptly, with his teeth sunk into Edgar’s shoulder and sobs still caught in his throat. “I love you,” he murmured again, shuddering at the feeling of cum already cooling on his stomach.

“I love you too,” Edgar said, and he hoped that he did.

**Author's Note:**

> LIKE COMMENT AND SUBSCRIBE FOR MORE GARBAGE


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